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{Verse 1: Cam'ron}All the girls see the (Boy) look at his kicks (Boy)Look at this car (Boy) all I say is (Oh Boy)Look mami I'm no good I'm so hoodClap at your soldiers sober then leave after it's overKilla, I'm not your companion or your man standinHit me when you wanna get rammed in, I'll be scramblinWith lot's of mobsters shop for lobstersCops and robbers listen every block is blocka (Blocka!!!)But she like the way I diddy bop you peeped thatMink on maury kicks plus chanel ski hatShe wan't the (Boy) so I give her the (Boy)Now she screamin out (Boy, Boy, Boy, Boy)Now she playin with herself Cam dig it out lift her upMa it's just a fuck girl get it out pick on upThey wan't the boy Montana with guns with bandanasListen to my homeboy Santana

{Verse 3: Cam'ron}When he got caught with the (Boy) we went to court for the (Boy)Just me and my (Boy) and we sayin (Oh Boy)Be on the block with my (Boy) with the Roc fella (Boy)When the cops come......squalin!!!!Yeah this is for the sports cars, Benitas, Jimmy'sPJ's, old school, eighteenth at the sports barEight or nine on the (Boy) holla at your boyKilla...holla....listen, it's the D-I-P (Boy)Plus the R-O-C (Boy) you'll be D-O-A (Boy)Your moms will say (Oh Boy)Shit, ain't no stoppin 'em guns we got alot of 'emMatter fact guroos start poppin 'emThen slap up his (Boy) clap up his (Boy)Wrap up his (Boy) get them gats (Oh Boy)Diplomats are them (Boy) for the girls and the (Boy)Say (Boy, Boy, Boy, Boy)

{Verse 4: Juelz Santana}Now when they see Cam and his (Boy) they say damn (Oh Boy)Santana's that (Boy) that squeeze hammers (Oh Boy)Canons and bandanas glammers we don't brandishBlam at your man's canvas then scram with your man's leadedAnd I'm back with my (Boy)

{Cam'ron}Until that man is vanished away in the Grand CanyonThese kids are grand standinniggas demand randsome over them grands scramblin (Boy, Boy, Boy, Boy)Well fuck it Van Dam 'em Cam a blam blam 'emCall up his (Boy) I'm down south tanninMami I got the remedy Tommy's I bet the enemyHire me somebody but now my body your feelin like fanickyKilla and Coppa we chill in Morocco for reelaWe got what you chill it though and fill with them holla's, huhIt's the (Boy) I said it's the (Boy)I'm the (Boy, Boy, Boy, Boy) Killa...